


Carpe Diem (or something)

by The_Readers_Muse



Category: Walking Dead, Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Carol gets feisty and Daryl is caught along for the ride, Emotional Baggage, F/M, First Time Blow Jobs, Oral Sex, Past Domestic Violence, Picks up a few weeks after season three left off, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Slow Burn, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-04
Updated: 2014-05-04
Packaged: 2018-01-21 20:15:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1562615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Readers_Muse/pseuds/The_Readers_Muse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A heady flush of pleasure and anticipation stole across her skin as he started to relax, his long day of hunting finally seeming to catch up with him as thin streams of warm water beaded down the jut of his hips. She adored him like this, in the scant moments before the mask started to dissolve - when he finally let his guard down and allowed himself to just sit back and enjoy it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own AMC's The Walking Dead, wishful thinking aside.
> 
> Authors Note #1: This is a (late-late-late) response fill for the USS Caryl's 1st Kinky/Non-Kinky Drabble Challenge on tumblr regarding the following prompt: "Blowjob: Daryl has never had one before. Carol rectifies this travesty." – I didn't make the deadline (like by half a year – found this in my unfinished folder and decided to release it into the wild) but figured this one had to be written.
> 
> Warnings: Contains spoilers for all four seasons of the Walking Dead, sexual content, allusions to domestic violence, emotional/psychological trauma related to domestic violence and abuse, smut, strong language, oral sex, first time oral sex, adorable awkwardness and more. Set somewhere between the end of season three and the beginning of season four – basically picks off a few weeks after the season three finale.

It'd been something of an adjustment, getting used to other people again. The survivors from Woodsbury had come with virtually nothing but the clothes on their backs. They'd been scared and uncertain, perhaps just as wary when they'd filed off the bus, blinking owlishly in the bright Georgian sunshine – stubborn and unwilling to trust.

Suspicion had been the word of the week, and frankly, it'd been two sided.

But, as people are so fond of saying, time heals all wounds. And eventually, the residents of Woodsbury began to  _relax_ , creating a community where a family, a single group, had once stood. She liked to think they were stronger for it.

Still, it had taken some time to get used to. After so long on their own, living hand to mouth, squished together like a can of sardines, the influx of new faces, new sights, sounds, smells, problems and personalities had been more than a bit jarring.

It'd meant more than a few hungry nights, but they'd made do, sharing equally as a show of good will. Daryl and Glenn had organized more supply runs, taking to hunting more and more, trying to supplement the canned food they'd managed to set aside for emergencies. Rick and Hershel had broken ground for farming, teaching Patrick, Carl and some of the older boys how to make snares in the woods around the prison – nothing went to waste.

She'd even heard a rumor that Mrs. McLeod, one of the feisty older ladies from Woodsbury, was making a quilt out of the fur pelts. Nattering on in Spanish and quick to hand out a mint or some little sweet she'd managed to squirrel away to each and every child that came to her cell bearing a furry little prize.

But it wasn't just the boys. Everyone had stepped up and eventually the folks from Woodsbury started to make the prison their own – feeling comfortable enough to start leaving knickknacks in odd corners or piles of papers in the mess.

_Home._

Not to be a stick in the mud, but for her, if she was being honest, it was the sudden influx of, well,  _stuff_ that had taken some getting used to. She'd always had this thing about neatness; it was one of the few neuroses she'd held onto after Ed died. In a way, with the world ending and all, it had only gotten worse.

She'd kept their house spotless. Not because Ed had demanded it, but because keeping house had been one of the only facets she'd been able to control when things got bad. It was a way to control her life and salvage her agency all under the guise of being exactly what Ed expected of her. A quiet, meek little mouse that had dinner in the oven and a spotless kitchen the moment he walked through the door.

It'd kept her sane, given her purpose, especially when Sophia started school. It was busy work, really, something to fill the long, lonely hours. It seemed so stupid now, but that had been her life. She hadn't been happy, not by a long shot. But at the time she'd figured that was just the way things were.

Ed had been good at that, making her believe she could be happy –  _content_  – if she tried just a little bit harder. If she smiled more and overlooked the empty beer cans. If she pretended she didn't mind the bruises or the lip-stick on his collar that was four shades darker than anything she had in her vanity. That she could forget the nights when he came home late, smelling of sweat and back-shelf liquor, ignoring her protests as he stumbled into bed, making like he wanted to lay hand on her before the booze brought him down.

She'd just finished washing up from breakfast when her eyes strayed over the side table by the door. She smiled sardonically at the mounted plaque that had been duct-taped to the wall above it.  _Seize the day_.

She nearly snorted, shaking her head as she flicked sudsy-water off her hands and called Patrick over to dump the washing tub outside. She watched him go, black curls bobbing as he tried to navigate through the heavy door that led to the outside stairwell.

 _Seize the day?_ The phrase seemed to have a completely different meaning these days.

She wiped her hands on a dish towel, considering the idea for a long moment before a small smile flirted with the corners of her lips. Then again, the advice wasn't  _entirely_  without merit.

It was long past dusk by the time Daryl finally slouched in from outside. He was shouldering a brace of hares, two fat pheasants, half a dozen squirrels and a triumphant, if not slightly embarrassed, sort of grin as the entire room exploded into wolf whistles and appreciative murmurs. He handed his haul over to Carl and Patrick to skin for tomorrow's lunch - trying and ultimately failing to avoid the fanfare as a group of people stopped him in mid-pace.

She just smiled at him from across the room. Her eyes were dark, smouldering with promise as he met her stare overtop David and Henry's heads. It was an innocent sort of look, deceiving in its subtlety as she inclined her head a fraction of an inch to the left. She looked for all the world like she normally did, smiling pleasantly as people filtered in and out of the room, but Daryl practically  _squirmed_  under the weight of it.

Anticipation and eagerness rose up at the implication, thick and sweet between them. She couldn't help but laugh when the man tried and failed to make a quick exit on stage left.

_He knew that look._

He hesitated in the doorway after supper, still uncertain of where they stood before she finally settled on reeling him in, knowing without having to ask that the first move was always going to be hers. For all his roughness, Daryl was too skittish to do otherwise, to unerringly sweet and unsure.

She couldn't deny it wasn't a nice change. But she had a feeling they'd be eighty-five and in wheelchairs and he'd still be treating her like spun glass regardless of the fact that she'd already proven herself to be unbreakable.  _Men_.

She closed the door to her cell firmly behind him as he slouched inside, having just enough time to twitch the blanket closed before he was crowding close. His breath was hot against her shoulder as she turned around to face him, letting her pull him down for a lingering kiss before eventually breaking it - shy. Still, he allowed her to fuss over him as she nudged him down to sit on edge of her cot, wetting a cloth in the basin she'd snuck up to her cell for this very occasion.

He just arched a brow, watching her unhurried movements with a wry sort of amusement. "Should I be takin' some sort of hint here or somethin'?" he grunted, expression slanted, made grim by the shadows despite the mirth she knew stood in its place.

But she just smiled, wringing out a splash of luke-warm water before she started skimming it over his skin, wiping away the blood and grit as he eyed her from the shadows.  _He'd seen some action out there today, that much was obvious._

A heady flush of pleasure and anticipation stole across her skin as he started to relax, his long day of hunting finally seeming to catch up with him as thin streams of warm water beaded down the jut of his hips. She adored him like this, in the scant moments before the mask started to dissolve - when he finally let his guard down and allowed himself to just sit back and enjoy it.

That was what a Dixon's trust granted you. A certain brand of lee-way when it came to the things he wasn't quite comfortable with. It was a hard won trust, full of more false starts and hedging frustrations than she'd ever experienced in the admittedly short span of years between her first tenuous attempt at dating and eventually marrying Ed.

But for moments like this?

It was worth  _every_ second.


	2. Chapter 2

She worked his pants off slowly, easing them down to pool around his ankles. She was careful not to make any sudden moves, nothing that would cause him to lose the relaxed tilt to his muscles and the shy, not-quite-there smile that was curling at the far corner.

She made a show of kissing her way down his thigh, enjoying the slight hitch to his breathing when she ghosted a breath across his navel, switching seamlessly to the other side as he watched her from behind his messy fringe.

 _Daryl liked to watch._  That was something she'd noticed right away.

It was only when she had her thumbs tucked under the waistband of his briefs that she hesitated. What she and Daryl had was new, untested. They were still feeling each other out, testing their boundaries and setting down ground rules, learning as they went.

But there was one thing she'd been absolutely  _dying_  to try.

She pulled down his shorts inch by inch, letting him get used to the idea as his cock twitched, bobbing, pre-cum already dampening the tip. She bit her lip as he scooted forward, hips hitching as if in invitation, as his gaze caught on the hollow of her throat.

_Always so eager._

She licked her lips, eying the red-flushed crown as a pearl of pre-cum started trickling downward. She ignored the frown when she didn't immediately move to take him in hand. They had a routine of sorts, nothing fancy, nothing more than either of them could handle. But in her case, she was ready to step it up a notch.

It'd been a long time since she'd done this. A long time since she'd  _wanted_ to do this.

She was a few inches away from pressing a chaste little kiss to the tip when he balked, dark eyes uncertain and questioning as he stared down at her. The muscles in his arms bunched and released, twisting the blanket underneath him with a vicious tug as he hauled himself upright.

"Carol, what are you-"

The look on her face shushed him, bringing him stuttering to a halt, the look on his face not unlike a startled deer, before he backtracked and tried again.

"But why would you wanna-" he began, trying and failing to make any real case for himself when his dick only firmed under her gaze, throbbing and twitching in a way she knew  _had_ to be all sorts of uncomfortable.

_He wanted this. He just didn't want to admit it yet._

"Because you'll love it," she returned, soothing and easy as she petted her fingers through the tangle of dark brown hair that crowned the base of him. She scritched her nails down the insides of his thighs, digging gentle whorls into the dip of his navel until his hips started jerking in time.

_So easy._

"And I want to," she added, careful to make that much clear. She knew him well enough by now that his backtracking was only partially due to inexperience (frankly, she'd already figured that much out for herself when she'd had to teach him the finer points of a good old fashioned make-out session). More than anything, he was tying himself up in knots trying to figure out if she was doing this because she wanted to, or if it was one of those moldy old leftovers from her time with Ed that still managed to rear their ugly head from time to time.

"But-"

"Shh, no buts," she hummed, gentle but firm as he wriggled underneath her, falling back on his elbows and huffing an irritated breath towards the ceiling. "Just let me, please?"

"I never, I mean, I haven't-" he started, face scrunched up like a child, jerking back like she was winded up for a slap when she slithered closer, arranging herself between his legs as his prick twitched from the cradle of his thighs.

"I know," she replied simply, keeping her tone low and serene, careful not to let any of her amusement show as his lips twisted. She could already tell that part of him wanted to bolt. It reminded her of that first time, when he'd come back from one close call too many – on some stupid supply run gone wrong and she'd forgotten to be cautious, forgotten to treat him with kid gloves. She'd just grabbed him by the shoulder, reeled him in and-

"But, isn't it kind of, well,  _dirty_?" he tried, clearly struggling for words as his dick perked up in her hands, warming up to the idea despite his protestations. Her fingers wrapped around him – giving him a squeeze for good measure when he grunted and thrust up in response.

_Putty in her hands._

She smirked into his thigh. Considering that this was coming from a man who was perfectly content with showering once every other  _decade_  and wearing the same pair of ratty old boxers until they fell clear off his hips, the irony was delicious.

"I'm pretty sure that's supposed to be the point," she hummed, jacking him off slowly, letting the familiarity of the action sooth him for a few precious seconds before she made for her prize.

He opened his mouth to protest the same moment she leaned in and gave him a tentative little lick, letting her tongue trail around the ridge of his crown as whatever he was going to say died in his throat.

Still, the strangled sound that issued above her – as well as the shell-shocked silence that followed - was _more_  than gratifying.

He breathed out, raspy and low, through his nose. The sound not unlike that of a winded bull when she pulled away, ignoring the thin string of saliva that stretched out between them as another blurt of pre-cum started leaking from the slit. And in spite of herself, her mouth watered.

She could smell him now, dark, musty and thick. She rubbed her thighs together in an effort to sooth the ache in her center. And just like she'd hoped, Daryl's eyes focused. He knew that tell, the subtle shift in her limbs that signalled how _ready_  she was, how much she  _wanted_.

"Let me?"

She waited until he nodded, a tiny little jerk of a motion before her mouth dipped low. And despite the twin blots of color flushing across her cheeks, she made sure to watch his face as her lips came down to rest on the tip, not above a bit of teasing as arousal and  _want-need-yes-now_ quickly overtook that of uncertainty as Daryl's eyes went hooded.

And if a little hiccuping gasp issued from his throat when she licked a bold stripe down the length of him – slicking him from base to crown, she pretended she hadn't heard.

She took it slow, mindful of the skittish splay of muscles twitching underneath his skin and the discomforting stretch as she hollowed her cheeks. Reminding her of just how  _long_ it'd been since she'd actually done this.

In her defense, he wasn't exactly small, quite the opposite actually. Hell, in all honesty he was  _more_  than a mouthful. He was longer than she was used to, thick around the base but tapering off comfortably with a prominent left-side lean when his blood was up.

_But you know that old saying about learning how to ride a bicycle? Well, it's true. You never quite forget._

"Carol…" the name was shuddery on his lips as he stared down at her, all long lashes and hollows that stood out below his eyes in the low light. His knees quivered as she put him through the paces, keeping one hand anchored around the base as she bobbed her head, catching his eye as she added a surprise twist on the upstroke.

He looked remarkably young.

And for some reason that only made her center _ache_  all the harder.

She nearly gagged when his hips started thrusting up to match her. She caught them just in time as the tip brushed against the back of her throat, forcing her to take him deep as a string of half-hearted sounds, something that could have been a curse or an apology, melded with the open air.

She pressed down firmly with her hand, keeping him grounded as a disgruntled whine rose up from somewhere above her.  _Pup!_

"Don't worry, I'll get 'cha there," she breathed, slurring the consonants as she snuck a look at his face. She nearly came undone right then and there as he panted down at her – a mess of heavy lids and sweat trickling down from his hair-line as he gnawed on the curl of his thumb and index finger, struggling to keep quiet.

She cupped his sack rolling it gently, wondering how far he'd let this go as her fingers dipped down to rub his perineum. And really, the rigid arc to his hips and the startled curse that followed did wonders for her dusty ego.

" _Carol."_

She could tell he was close just by the way he was moving now, one hand slapping at the mattress, desperate and loose, caught between trying to get her attention and riding the feeling all the way to edge.

"Carol, I'm gonna-"

But she just smirked, pulling off with an obscene-sounding  _pop_ before sucking him back down again. Making sure to do it once, twice, and then again until he snarled on a breath, muscles taut as a bow-string as the taste of him – an alluring bitter tang – flooded across her tongue.

She swallowed, gentling her tongue along the tip, unrepentant and smug as he jerked and twitched, swatting weakly at her until he caught her by the armpit and dragged her up beside him.

He breathed, ragged and deep as he came down from his high. She couldn't help but drink it in, chasing his taste as her hands skimmed down the side of his chest. They ghosted across the curve of his rib and the scars that pock-marked his skin like uneven freckles as he all but  _melted_ into the mattress. Unsure of how to feel when she realized this was about as close to relaxed as she'd  _ever_ seen him.

He stretched, crooked toes hanging clear off the bed tangling with the mess of blankets as his arms smacked against the daub concrete. He yawned, rubbing at his eyes as she smiled into his skin. The play of muscles was delicious, highlighted by the light sheen of sweat still slicked across his skin.

The expression on his face was remarkably unguarded as he blinked and propped himself up on his elbows. Staring down at her like he'd never seen anything quite like her as his dick softened, bumping lazily against a sweaty thigh as she quickly memorized the expression to enjoy later.

"Jesus  _fucking_ Christ, woman. What the  _hell_  has gotten into you today?!" he wheezed, slumping back against the mattress, as if deciding that holding himself upright was too much effort. Grunting in either amusement or irritation when she smothered a chuckle into his filthy hair.

The crook of his arm was thrown over his eyes in a way that made her fingers itch. Resisting the urge to dig them into the curl of hair at his armpit and tickle as he allowed her to arrange herself beside him, snuggling up close as she buried her face into the crook of his neck – beyond pleased with herself.

She held herself back, if only just.

_A woman in her situation had to have standards, after all._

"Carpe diem," she replied with a grin, fingers skittering down to give his cock an unrepentant squeeze. She chased him playfully as he groaned, batting her away before he finally gave in and surrendered.

He watched with veiled eyes as she straddled him, unconcerned and vaguely challenging until she couldn't help but lean down and take him up on a lazy kiss. It was soft and tired, smooth and stubble-ridden in the afterglow as they made it last. Enjoying the edge of teeth and the sloppy-tilt that comes when you're too sated to care about finesse or who was being just a bit too bold with their tongue.

And when tentative fingers started to tug at the buttons of her jeans, well, she could only grin into the darkness.

_Seize the day, indeed._

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: The final chapter will be up tomorrow.


End file.
